


ladybird suitcase

by forochel



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-movie, a conversation between Eggsy and his mum when she comes to live with him.</p><p>Fill for <a href="http://dressing-room3.livejournal.com/405.html?thread=5269#t5269">this prompt"</a> at the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ladybird suitcase

**Author's Note:**

> Dear OP, it's not exactly fluffy family fic, but hopefully it's a start?
> 
> Also, I refer to Michelle Unwin as 'his mum' or 'Eggsy's mum' throughout NOT because I'm denying her a name (this occurred to me halfway through and has troubled me ever since, tbh), but because it's written in close third and it's just super weird for Eggsy to be thinking of his mum by her name??? I think???

It took a week to get his mum and Daisy properly sorted out, after Eggsy's little demonstration in The Black Prince. His mum'd been demanding to know what the hell he'd been up to, even as they were picking their way through the groaning bodies Eggsy had left behind, and then she'd frustratingly and inexplicably dug her heels in when they'd got to the flat. 

Daisy bursting into tears, a stay in a hotel so posh his mum'd turned to him and said, "you are _not_ working for a tailor," in a hushed voice, and a short ride in a black cab later, they were standing outside one of the endless mews houses that Kingsman seemed to own. It was painted a foamy sea-green, and some kind of fern was spilling over the plant box under the first storey window. He could see his mum falling in love with it at first sight.

She took a few steps back onto the cobbled street just to drink it all in, in the little area marked out by two large rolly cases, one small one in the shape of a ladybird, a rucksack of Eggsy's belongings, and JB sitting patiently on his haunches.

"It's the funniest thing, you know. I went to primary school over Kentish Town way, just south of here," said Eggsy's mum, her eyes faraway. In typical London fashion, the posh bits were pushed right up against council estates, and ne'er the twain shall meet anyway. Unless you grew up in a shithole like Eggsy had, in which case posh was so far away you didn't see it till it was standing outside a police station, having just put in some kind of fix. 

Anyway. "I never knew that," Eggsy said. 

"Oh, yeah," his mum said, eyes still a little misty with memory. "Well, I mean, the rough end of Camden, of course. Not this bit." She laughed a little and bounced Daisy in her arms. "God, it's been _years_ since I've lived north of the river."

"Didn't know that neither," said Eggsy, jingling his keys. 

She turned to look at him, and he ducked his head, away from the look in her eyes. Whistling for JB, Eggsy picked up one of the battered suitcases with his left hand. 

"Eggsy —" she started, but was interrupted when he unlocked the door and started pulling the case in. Daisy woke up at the sound of wheels clattering against the cobblestones, and clamoured to get down. "Oh, darling, all right, down you go." 

Daisy went immediately for her suitcase, JB trotting loyally at her heels, and Eggsy found himself sharing a soft look with his mum. 

He looked quickly away and went to get the rest of their bags, having left the suitcase propping the door open.

"The neighbours are probably starting to wonder, mum," he said, trying on a wry grin. "We'd best get out of the public eye first, yeah?"

When they were all settled in the living room with mugs of tea, his mum picked up where she'd left off. It was like the hour spent putting away their things and ooh-ing over their new home and corralling Daisy and JB hadn't just happened.

"What I wanted to say, Eggsy," she said, with an unexpected note of steel in her voice, "was that we've got time now for me to - for us to talk, I suppose. I know I haven't always been —"

"I know, mum," Eggsy cut her off, "I know. You haven't got to, it's all right."

"Well, I want to." His mum reached over and picked Daisy up from where she'd gone exploring, fascinated by the softness of the carpet and the newness of this place. "For the both of you this time round. New chances and all, isn't it, love? "

Eggsy took a sip of his tea. It burned down all the way: his tongue, his throat, his gullet. Burned the way his eyes were. He took another sip of his tea. 

"Yeah," he said roughly. He glanced up at her over the rim of his mug. She was smiling at him, watery and weak but true. "Yeah, mum, guess it is."


End file.
